The Adventure of the Lion's Mane

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The Adventure of the Lion's Mane

THE LIONS MANE

ISa most singular thing that a problem which was certainly as abstruse and unusual as any which I

ve faced in my long professional career should have come to me after my retirement, and be broug

it were, to my very door. It occurred after my withdrawal to my little Sussex home, when I had giv

yself up entirely to that soothing life of Nature for which I had so often yearned during the long yeaent amid the gloom of London. At this period of my life the good Watson had passed almost beyon

y ken. An occasional week-end visit was the most that I ever saw of him. Thus I must act as my ow

ronicler. Ah! had he but been with me, how much he might have made of so wonderful a happenin

d of my eventual triumph against every difficulty! As it is, however, I must needs tell my tale in m

wn plain way, showing by my words each step upon the difficult road which lay before me as I

arched for the mystery of the Lions Mane.

y villa is situated upon the southern slope of the downs, commanding a great view of the Channel.

is point the coast-line is entirely of chalk cliffs, which can only be descended by a single, long,

rtuous path, which is steep and slippery. At the bottom of the path lie a hundred yards of pebbles aningle, even when the tide is at full. Here and there, however, there are curves and hollows which m

lendid swimming-pools filled afresh with each flow. This admirable beach extends for some miles

ch direction, save only at one point where the little cove and village of Fulworth break the line.

y house is lonely. I, my old housekeeper, and my bees have the estate all to ourselves. Half a mile o

owever, is Harold Stackhursts well-known coaching establishment, The Gables, quite a large place

hich contains some score of young fellows preparing for various professions, with a staff of several

asters. Stackhurst himself was a well-known rowing Blue in his day, and an excellent all-round

holar. He and I were always friendly from the day I came to the coast, and he was the one man who

as on such terms with me that we could drop in on each other in the evenings without an invitation.owards the end of July, 1907, there was a severe gale, the wind blowing up-channel, heaping the se

the base of the cliffs and leaving a lagoon at the turn of the tide. On the morning of which I speak

ind had abated, and all Nature was newly washed and fresh. It was impossible to work upon so

lightful a day, and I strolled out before breakfast to enjoy the exquisite air. I walked along the cliff

th which led to the steep descent to the beach. As I walked I heard a shout behind me, and there wa

arold Stackhurst waving his hand in cheery greeting.

What a morning, Mr. Holmes! I thought I should see you out.

Going for a swim, I see.

At your old tricks again, he laughed, patting his bulging pocket. Yes. McPherson started early, an

pect I may find him there.

tzroy McPherson was the science master, a fine upstanding young fellow whose life had been cripp

y heart trouble following rheumatic fever. He was a natural athlete, however, and excelled in every

me which did not throw too great a strain upon him. Summer and winter he went for his swim, and

am a swimmer myself, I have often joined him.

t this moment we saw the man himself. His head showed above the edge of the cliff where the path

ds. Then his whole figure appeared at the top, staggering like a drunken man. The next instant he

rew up his hands and, with a terrible cry, fell upon his face. Stackhurst and I rushed forwardit may

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ve been fifty yardsand turned him on his back. He was obviously dying. Those glazed sunken eye

d dreadful livid cheeks could mean nothing else. One glimmer of life came into his face for an inst

d he uttered two or three words with an eager air of warning. They were slurred and indistinct, but

y ear the last of them, which burst in a shriek from his lips, were the Lions Mane. It was utterly

relevant and unintelligible, and yet I could twist the sound into no other sense. Then he half raised

mself from the ground, threw his arms into the air, and fell forward on his side. He was dead.

y companion was paralyzed by the sudden horror of it, but I, as may well be imagined, had every

nse on the alert. And I had need, for it was speedily evident that we were in the presence of antraordinary case. The man was dressed only in his Burberry overcoat, his trousers, and an unlaced

canvas shoes. As he fell over, his Burberry, which had been simply thrown round his shoulders,

pped off, exposing his trunk. We stared at it in amazement. His back was covered with dark red lin

though he had been terribly flogged by a thin wire scourge. The instrument with which this

unishment had been inflicted was clearly flexible, for the long, angry weals curved round his should

d ribs. There was blood dripping down his chin, for he had bitten through his lower lip in the

roxysm of his agony. His drawn and distorted face told how terrible that agony had been.

was kneeling and Stackhurst standing by the body when a shadow fell across us, and we found that



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urdoch was by our side. Murdoch was the mathematical coach at the establishment, a tall, dark, thi

an, so taciturn and aloof that none can be said to have been his friend. He seemed to live in some h

stract region of surds and conic sections, with little to connect him with ordinary life. He was look

pon as an oddity by the students, and would have been their butt, but there was some strange outlan

ood in the man, which showed itself not only in his coal-black eyes and swarthy face but also in

casional outbreaks of temper, which could only be described as ferocious. On one occasion, being

agued by a little dog belonging to McPherson, he had caught the creature up and hurled it through t

ate-glass window, an action for which Stackhurst would certainly have given him his dismissal hadot been a very valuable teacher. Such was the strange complex man who now appeared beside us. H

emed to be honestly shocked at the sight before him, though the incident of the dog may show that

ere was no great sympathy between the dead man and himself.

Poor fellow! Poor fellow! What can I do? How can I help?

Were you with him? Can you tell us what has happened?

No, no, I was late this morning. I was not on the beach at all. I have come straight from The Gables

hat can I do?

You can hurry to the police-station at Fulworth. Report the matter at once.

ithout a word he made off at top speed, and I proceeded to take the matter in hand, while Stackhurzed at this tragedy, remained by the body. My first task naturally was to note who was on the beac

om the top of the path I could see the whole sweep of it, and it was absolutely deserted save that tw

three dark figures could be seen far away moving towards the village of Fulworth. Having satisfie

yself upon this point, I walked slowly down the path. There was clay or soft marl mixed with the

alk, and every here and there I saw the same footstep, both ascending and descending. No one else

one down to the beach by this track that morning. At one place I observed the print of an open hand

ith the fingers towards the incline. This could only mean that poor McPherson had fallen as he

cended. There were rounded depressions, too, which suggested that he had come down upon his kn

ore than once. At the bottom of the path was the considerable lagoon left by the retreating tide. At de of it McPherson had undressed, for there lay his towel on a rock. It was folded and dry, so that it

ould seem that, after all, he had never entered the water. Once or twice as I hunted round amid the h

ingle I came on little patches of sand where the print of his canvas shoe, and also of his naked foot

uld be seen. The latter fact proved that he had made all ready to bathe, though the towel indicated t

had not actually done so.

nd here was the problem clearly definedas strange a one as had ever confronted me. The man had

en on the beach more than a quarter of an hour at the most. Stackhurst had followed him from The

ables, so there could be no doubt about that. He had gone to bathe and had stripped, as the naked

otsteps showed. Then he had suddenly huddled on his clothes againthey were all dishevelled andnfastenedand he had returned without bathing, or at any rate without drying himself. And the reaso

r his change of purpose had been that he had been scourged in some savage, inhuman fashion, tortu

ntil he bit his lip through in his agony, and was left with only strength enough to crawl away and to

ho had done this barbarous deed? There were, it is true, small grottos and caves in the base of the

iffs, but the low sun shone directly into them, and there was no place for concealment. Then, again

ere were those distant figures on the beach. They seemed too far away to have been connected with

ime, and the broad lagoon in which McPherson had intended to bathe lay between him and them,

pping up to the rocks. On the sea two or three fishing-boats were at no great distance. Their occupa



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ight be examined at our leisure. There were several roads for inquiry, but none which led to any ve

bvious goal.

hen I at last returned to the body I found that a little group of wondering folk had gathered round it

ackhurst was, of course, still there, and Ian Murdoch had just arrived with Anderson, the village

nstable, a big, ginger-moustached man of the slow, solid Sussex breeda breed which covers much

ood sense under a heavy, silent exterior. He listened to everything, took note of all we said, and fina

ew me aside.

d be glad of your advice, Mr. Holmes. This is a big thing for me to handle, and Ill hear of it fromewes if I go wrong.

advised him to send for his immediate superior, and for a doctor; also to allow nothing to be moved

d as few fresh footmarks as possible to be made, until they came. In the meantime I searched the d

ans pockets. There were his handkerchief, a large knife, and a small folding card-case. From this

ojected a slip of paper, which I unfolded and handed to the constable. There was written on it in a

rawling, feminine hand:

I will be there, you may be sure.

MAU

read like a love affair, an assignation, though when and where were a blank. The constable replace

the card-case and returned it with the other things to the pockets of the Burberry. Then, as nothing

ore suggested itself, I walked back to my house for breakfast, having first arranged that the base of

iffs should be thoroughly searched.

ackhurst was round in an hour or two to tell me that the body had been removed to The Gables, wh

e inquest would be held. He brought with him some serious and definite news. As I expected, nothi

d been found in the small caves below the cliff, but he had examined the papers in McPhersons de

d there were several which showed an intimate correspondence with a certain Miss Maud Bellamyulworth. We had then established the identity of the writer of the note.

The police have the letters, he explained. I could not bring them. But there is no doubt that it was

rious love affair. I see no reason, however, to connect it with that horrible happening save, indeed,

e lady had made an appointment with him.

But hardly at a bathing-pool which all of you were in the habit of using, I remarked.

t is mere chance, said he, that several of the students were not with McPherson.

Was it mere chance?

ackhurst knit his brows in thought.

an Murdoch held them back, said he. He would insist upon some algebraic demonstration beforeeakfast. Poor chap, he is dreadfully cut up about it all.

And yet I gather that they were not friends.

At one time they were not. But for a year or more Murdoch has been as near to McPherson as he ev

uld be to anyone. He is not of a very sympathetic disposition by nature.

o I understand. I seem to remember your telling me once about a quarrel over the ill-usage of a dog

That blew over all right.

But left some vindictive feeling, perhaps.

No, no, I am sure they were real friends.



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Well, then, we must explore the matter of the girl. Do you know her?

Everyone knows her. She is the beauty of the neighbourhooda real beauty, Holmes, who would dra

tention everywhere. I knew that McPherson was attracted by her, but I had no notion that it had gon

far as these letters would seem to indicate.

But who is she?

he is the daughter of old Tom Bellamy, who owns all the boats and bathing-cots at Fulworth. He w

fisherman to start with, but is now a man of some substance. He and his son William run the busine

hall we walk into Fulworth and see them?On what pretext?

Oh, we can easily find a pretext. After all, this poor man did not ill-use himself in this outrageous w

ome human hand was on the handle of that scourge, if indeed it was a scourge which inflicted the

juries. His circle of acquaintances in this lonely place was surely limited. Let us follow it up in eve

rection and we can hardly fail to come upon the motive, which in turn should lead us to the crimina

would have been a pleasant walk across the thyme-scented downs had our minds not been poisone

e tragedy we had witnessed. The village of Fulworth lies in a hollow curving in a semicircle round

y. Behind the old-fashioned hamlet several modern houses have been built upon the rising ground.

as to one of these that Stackhurst guided me.Thats The Haven, as Bellamy called it. The one with the corner tower and slate roof. Not bad for a

an who started with nothing but By Jove, look at that!

he garden gate of The Haven had opened and a man had emerged. There was no mistaking that tall,

gular, straggling figure. It was Ian Murdoch, the mathematician. A moment later we confronted him

pon the road.

Hullo! said Stackhurst. The man nodded, gave us a sideways glance from his curious dark eyes, an

ould have passed us, but his principal pulled him up.

What were you doing there? he asked.

urdochs face flushed with anger. I am your subordinate, sir, under your roof. I am not aware thatwe you any account of my private actions.

ackhursts nerves were near the surface after all he had endured. Otherwise, perhaps, he would hav

aited. Now he lost his temper completely.

n the circumstances your answer is pure impertinence, Mr. Murdoch.

Your own question might perhaps come under the same heading.

This is not the first time that I have had to overlook your insubordinate ways. It will certainly be the

st. You will kindly make fresh arrangements for your future as speedily as you can.

had intended to do so. I have lost to-day the only person who made The Gables habitable.

e strode off upon his way, while Stackhurst, with angry eyes, stood glaring after him. Is he not anmpossible, intolerable man? he cried.

he one thing that impressed itself forcibly upon my mind was that Mr. Ian Murdoch was taking the

ance to open a path of escape from the scene of the crime. Suspicion, vague and nebulous, was now

ginning to take outline in my mind. Perhaps the visit to the Bellamys might throw some further lig

pon the matter. Stackhurst pulled himself together, and we went forward to the house.

r. Bellamy proved to be a middle-aged man with a flaming red beard. He seemed to be in a very an

ood, and his face was soon as florid as his hair.

No, sir, I do not desire any particulars. My son hereindicating a powerful young man, with a heav



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llen face, in the corner of the sitting-room is of one mind with me that Mr. McPhersons attentio

Maud were insulting. Yes, sir, [1088]the word marriage was never mentioned, and yet there were

tters and meetings, and a great deal more of which neither of us could approve. She has no mother,

e are her only guardians. We are determined

ut the words were taken from his mouth by the appearance of the lady herself. There was no

insaying that she would have graced any assembly in the world. Who could have imagined that so

flower would grow from such a root and in such an atmosphere? Women have seldom been an

traction to me, for my brain has always governed my heart, but I could not look upon her perfect clt face, with all the soft freshness of the downlands in her delicate colouring, without realizing that

oung man would cross her path unscathed. Such was the girl who had pushed open the door and sto

ow, wide-eyed and intense, in front of Harold Stackhurst.

know already that Fitzroy is dead, she said. Do not be afraid to tell me the particulars.

This other gentleman of yours let us know the news, explained the father.

There is no reason why my sister should be brought into the matter, growled the younger man.

he sister turned a sharp, fierce look upon him. This is my business, William. Kindly leave me to

anage it in my own way. By all accounts there has been a crime committed. If I can help to show w

d it, it is the least I can do for him who is gone.he listened to a short account from my companion, with a composed concentration which showed m

at she possessed strong character as well as great beauty. Maud Bellamy will always remain in my

emory as a most complete and remarkable woman. It seems that she already knew me by sight, for

rned to me at the end.

Bring them to justice, Mr. Holmes. You have my sympathy and my help, whoever they may be. It

emed to me that she glanced defiantly at her father and brother as she spoke.

Thank you, said I. I value a womans instinct in such matters. You use the word they. You think

at more than one was concerned?

knew Mr. McPherson well enough to be aware that he was a brave and a strong man. No singlerson could ever have inflicted such an outrage upon him.

Might I have one word with you alone?

tell you, Maud, not to mix yourself up in the matter, cried her father angrily.

he looked at me helplessly. What can I do?

The whole world will know the facts presently, so there can be no harm if I discuss them here, said

should have preferred privacy, but if your father will not allow it he must share the deliberations.

hen I spoke of the note which had been found in the dead mans pocket. It is sure to be produced a

e inquest. May I ask you to throw any light upon it that you can?

see no reason for mystery, she answered. We were engaged to be married, and we only kept itcret because Fitzroys uncle, who is very old and said to be dying, might have disinherited him if h

d married against his wish. There was no other reason.

You could have told us, growled Mr. Bellamy.

o I would, father, if you had ever shown sympathy.

object to my girl picking up with men outside her own station.

t was your prejudice against him which prevented us from telling you. As to this appointmentshe

mbled in her dress and produced a crumpled note it was in answer to this.



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DEAREST[ran the message]:

The old place on the beach just after sunset on Tuesday. It is the only time I can get away.

Tuesday was to-day, and I had meant to meet him to-night.

urned over the paper. This never came by post. How did you get it?

would rather not answer that question. It has really nothing to do with the matter which you are

vestigating. But anything which bears upon that I will most freely answer.

he was as good as her word, but there was nothing which was helpful in our investigation. She had

ason to think that her fiance had any hidden enemy, but she admitted that she had had several warm

mirers.May I ask if Mr. Ian Murdoch was one of them?

he blushed and seemed confused.

There was a time when I thought he was. But that was all changed when he understood the relations

tween Fitzroy and myself.

gain the shadow round this strange man seemed to me to be taking more definite shape. His record

ust be examined. His rooms must be privately searched. Stackhurst was a willing collaborator, for i

s mind also suspicions were forming. We returned from our visit to The Haven with the hope that o

ee end of this tangled skein was already in our hands.



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week passed. The inquest had thrown no light upon the matter and had been adjourned for further

idence. Stackhurst had made discreet inquiry about his subordinate, and there had been a superfici

arch of his room, but without result. Personally, I had gone over the whole ground again, both

hysically and mentally, but with no new conclusions. In all my chronicles the reader will find no ca

hich brought me so completely to the limit of my powers. Even my imagination could conceive no

lution to the mystery. And then there came the incident of the dog.

was my old housekeeper who heard of it first by that strange wireless by which such people collect

ws of the countryside.ad story this, sir, about Mr. McPhersons dog, said she one evening.

do not encourage such conversations, but the words arrested my attention.

What of Mr. McPhersons dog?

Dead, sir. Died of grief for its master.

Who told you this?

Why, sir, everyone is talking of it. It took on terrible, and has eaten nothing for a week. Then to-day

wo of the young gentlemen from The Gables found it deaddown on the beach, sir, at the very place

here its master met his end.

At the very place. The words stood out clear in my memory. Some dim perception that the matter wtal rose in my mind. That the dog should die was after the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs. But in

ry place! Why should this lonely beach be fatal to it? Was it possible that it also had been sacrific

some revengeful feud? Was it possible ? Yes, the perception was dim, but already something wa

uilding up in my mind. In a few minutes I was on my way to The Gables, where I found Stackhurst

s study. At my request he sent for Sudbury and Blount, the two students who had found the dog.

Yes, it lay on the very edge of the pool, said one of them. It must have followed the trail of its dea

aster.

aw the faithful little creature, an Airedale terrier, laid out upon the mat in the hall. The body was st

d rigid, the eyes projecting, and the limbs contorted. There was agony in every line of it.om The Gables I walked down to the bathing-pool. The sun had sunk and the shadow of the great c

y black across the water, which glimmered dully like a sheet of lead. The place was deserted and th

as no sign of life save for two sea-birds circling and screaming overhead. In the fading light I could

mly make out the little dogs spoor upon the sand round the very rock on which his masters towel

en laid. For a long time I stood in deep meditation while the shadows grew darker around me. My

ind was filled with racing thoughts. You have known what it was to be in a nightmare in which you

el that there is some all-important thing for which you search and which you know is there, though

mains forever just beyond your reach. That was how I felt that evening as I stood alone by that plac

death. Then at last I turned and walked slowly homeward.



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had just reached the top of the path when it came to me. Like a flash, I remembered the thing for wh

had so eagerly and vainly grasped. You will know, or Watson has written in vain, that I hold a vast

ore of out-of-the-way knowledge without scientific system, but very available for the needs of myork. My mind is like a crowded box-room with packets of all sorts stowed away thereinso many th

ay well have but a vague perception of what was there. I had known that there was something whic

ight bear upon this matter. It was still vague, but at least I knew how I could make it clear. It was

onstrous, incredible, and yet it was always a possibility. I would test it to the full.

here is a great garret in my little house which is stuffed with books. It was into this that I plunged an

mmaged for an hour. At the end of that time I emerged with a little chocolate and silver volume.

agerly I turned up the chapter of which I had a dim remembrance. Yes, it was indeed a far-fetched a

nlikely proposition, and yet I could not be at rest until I had made sure if it might, indeed, be so. It w

te when I retired, with my mind eagerly awaiting the work of the morrow.ut that work met with an annoying interruption. I had hardly swallowed my early cup of tea and wa

arting for the beach when I had a call from Inspector Bardle of the Sussex Constabularya steady,

lid, bovine man with thoughtful eyes, which looked at me now with a very troubled expression.

know your immense experience, sir, said he. This is quite unofficial, of course, and need go no

rther. But I am fairly up against it in this McPherson case. The question is, shall I make an arrest, o

all I not?

Meaning Mr. Ian Murdoch?

Yes, sir. There is really no one else when you come to think of it. Thats the advantage of this solitu



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e narrow it down to a very small compass. If he did not do it, then who did?

What have you against him?

e had gleaned along the same furrows as I had. There was Murdochs character and the mystery wh

emed to hang round the man. His furious bursts of temper, as shown in the incident of the dog. The

ct that he had quarrelled with McPherson in the past, and that there was some reason to think that h

ight have resented his attentions to Miss Bellamy. He had all my points, but no fresh ones, save tha

urdoch seemed to be making every preparation for departure.

What would my position be if I let him slip away with all this evidence against him? The burly,hlegmatic man was sorely troubled in his mind.

Consider, I said, all the essential gaps in your case. On the morning of the crime he can surely pro

alibi. He had been with his scholars till the last moment, and within a few minutes of McPherson

pearance he came upon us from behind. Then bear in mind the absolute impossibility that he could

ngle-handed have inflicted this outrage upon a man quite as strong as himself. Finally, there is this

uestion of the instrument with which these injuries were inflicted.

What could it be but a scourge or flexible whip of some sort?

Have you examined the marks? I asked.

have seen them. So has the doctor.But I have examined them very carefully with a lens. They have peculiarities.

What are they, Mr. Holmes?

tepped to my bureau and brought out an enlarged photograph. This is my method in such cases,

plained.

You certainly do things thoroughly, Mr. Holmes.

should hardly be what I am if I did not. Now let us consider this weal which extends round the righ

oulder. Do you observe nothing remarkable?

cant say I do.

urely it is evident that it is unequal in its intensity. There is a dot of extravasated blood here, andother there. There are similar indications in this other weal down here. What can that mean?

have no idea. Have you?

Perhaps I have. Perhaps I havent. I may be able to say more soon. Anything which will define wha

ade that mark will bring us a long way towards the criminal.

t is, of course, an absurd idea, said the policeman, but if a red-hot net of wire had been laid acros

e back, then these better marked points would represent where the meshes crossed each other.

A most ingenious comparison. Or shall we say a very stiff cat-o-nine-tails with small hard knots up

?

By Jove, Mr. Holmes, I think you have hit it.Or there may be some very different cause, Mr. Bardle. But your case is far too weak for an arrest.

esides, we have those last wordsthe Lions Mane.

have wondered whether Ian

Yes, I have considered that. If the second word had borne any resemblance to Murdochbut it did n

e gave it almost in a shriek. I am sure that it was Mane.

Have you no alternative, Mr. Holmes?

Perhaps I have. But I do not care to discuss it until there is something more solid to discuss.

And when will that be?



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n an hourpossibly less.

he inspector rubbed his chin and looked at me with dubious eyes.

wish I could see what was in your mind, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps its those fishing-boats.

No, no, they were too far out.

Well, then, is it Bellamy and that big son of his? They were not too sweet upon Mr. McPherson. Co

ey have done him a mischief?

No, no, you wont draw me until I am ready, said I with a smile. Now, Inspector, we each have ou

wn work to do. Perhaps if you were to meet me here at midday o far we had got when there came the tremendous interruption which was the beginning of the end.

y outer door was flung open, there were blundering footsteps in the passage, and Ian Murdoch

aggered into the room, pallid, dishevelled, his clothes in wild disorder, clawing with his bony hand

e furniture to hold himself erect. Brandy! Brandy! he gasped, and fell groaning upon the sofa.

e was not alone. Behind him came Stackhurst, hatless and panting, almost as distrait as his compan

Yes, yes, brandy! he cried. The man is at his last gasp. It was all I could do to bring him here. He

inted twice upon the way.

alf a tumbler of the raw spirit brought about a wondrous change. He pushed himself up on one armwung his coat from his shoulders. For Gods sake, oil, opium, morphia! he cried. Anything to ea

is infernal agony!

he inspector and I cried out at the sight. There, crisscrossed upon the mans naked shoulder, was the

me strange reticulated pattern of red, inflamed lines which had been the death-mark of Fitzroy

cPherson.

he pain was evidently terrible and was more than local, for the sufferers breathing would stop for a

me, his face would turn black, and then with loud gasps he would clap his hand to his heart, while h

ow dropped beads of sweat. At any moment he might die. More and more brandy was poured down



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s throat, each fresh dose bringing him back to life. Pads of cotton-wool soaked in salad-oil seemed

ke the agony from the strange wounds. At last his head fell heavily upon the cushion. Exhausted

ature had taken refuge in its last storehouse of vitality. It was half a sleep and half a faint, but at lea

as ease from pain.

o question him had been impossible, but the moment we were assured of his condition Stackhurst

rned upon me.

My God! he cried, what is it, Holmes? What is it?

Where did you find him?Down on the beach. Exactly where poor McPherson met his end. If this mans heart had been weak

cPhersons was, he would not be here now. More than once I thought he was gone as I brought him

p. It was too far to The Gables, so I made for you.

Did you see him on the beach?

was walking on the cliff when I heard his cry. He was at the edge of the water, reeling about like a

unken man. I ran down, threw some clothes about him, and brought him up. For heavens sake,

olmes, use all the powers you have and spare no pains to lift the curse from this place, for life is

coming unendurable. Can you, with all your world-wide reputation, do nothing for us?

think I can, Stackhurst. Come with me now! And you, Inspector, come along! We will see if wennot deliver this murderer into your hands.

eaving the unconscious man in the charge of my housekeeper, we all three went down to the deadly

goon. On the shingle there was piled a little heap of towels and clothes left by the stricken man. Slo

walked round the edge of the water, my comrades in Indian file behind me. Most of the pool was qu

allow, but under the cliff where the beach was hollowed out it was four or five feet deep. It was to

rt that a swimmer would naturally go, for it formed a beautiful pellucid green pool as clear as cryst

line of rocks lay above it at the base of the cliff, and along this I led the way, peering eagerly into t

pths beneath me. I had reached the deepest and stillest pool when my eyes caught that for which th

ere searching, and I burst into a shout of triumph.Cyanea! I cried. Cyanea! Behold the Lions Mane!

he strange object at which I pointed did indeed look like a tangled mass torn from the mane of a lio

y upon a rocky shelf some three feet under the water, a curious waving, vibrating, hairy creature wi

reaks of silver among its yellow tresses. It pulsated with a slow, heavy dilation and contraction.

t has done mischief enough. Its day is over! I cried. Help me, Stackhurst! Let us end the murdere

rever.

here was a big boulder just above the ledge, and we pushed it until it fell with a tremendous splash

e water. When the ripples had cleared we saw that it had settled upon the ledge below. One flappin

ge of yellow membrane showed that our victim was beneath it. A thick oily scum oozed out fromlow the stone and stained the water round, rising slowly to the surface.

Well, this gets me! cried the inspector. What was it, Mr. Holmes? Im born and bred in these part

ut I never saw such a thing. It dont belong to Sussex.

ust as well for Sussex, I remarked. It may have been the southwest gale that brought it up. Come

ck to my house, both of you, and I will give you the terrible experience of one who has good reaso

member his own meeting with the same peril of the seas.

hen we reached my study we found that Murdoch was so far recovered that he could sit up. He wa

zed in mind, and every now and then was shaken by a paroxysm of pain. In broken words he



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plained that he had no notion what had occurred to him, save that terrific pangs had suddenly shot

rough him, and that it had taken all his fortitude to reach the bank.

Here is a book, I said, taking up the little volume, which first brought light into what might have b

rever dark. It is Out of Doors, by the famous observer, J. G. Wood. Wood himself very nearly peris

om contact with this vile creature, so he wrote with a very full knowledge. Cyanea capillatais the

iscreants full name, and he can be as dangerous to life as, and far more painful than, the bite of the

bra. Let me briefly give this extract.

If the bather should see a loose roundish mass of tawny membranes and fibres, something lik

very large handfuls of lions mane and silver paper, let him beware, for this is the fearful sting

Cyanea capillata.

ould our sinister acquaintance be more clearly described?

He goes on to tell of his own encounter with one when swimming off the coast of Kent. He found th

e creature radiated almost invisible filaments to the distance of fifty feet, and that anyone within th

rcumference from the deadly centre was in danger of death. Even at a distance the effect upon Woo

as almost fatal.

[1094]The multitudinous threads caused light scarlet lines upon the skin which on closer

examination resolved into minute dots or pustules, each dot charged as it were with a red-hot

needle making its way through the nerves.

The local pain was, as he explains, the least part of the exquisite torment.

Pangs shot through the chest, causing me to fall as if struck by a bullet. The pulsation would

cease, and then the heart would give six or seven leaps as if it would force its way through the

chest.



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Cyanea Capillata

t nearly killed him, although he had only been exposed to it in the disturbed ocean and not in the

rrow calm waters of a bathing-pool. He says that he could hardly recognize himself afterwards, so

hite, wrinkled and shrivelled was his face. He gulped down brandy, a whole bottleful, and it seems

ve saved his life. There is the book, Inspector. I leave it with you, and you cannot doubt that it

ntains a full explanation of the tragedy of poor McPherson.

And incidentally exonerates me, remarked Ian Murdoch with a wry smile. I do not blame you,

spector, nor you, Mr. Holmes, for your suspicions were natural. I feel that on the very eve of my ar

have only cleared myself by sharing the fate of my poor friend.

No, Mr. Murdoch. I was already upon the track, and had I been out as early as I intended I might weve saved you from this terrific experience.

But how did you know, Mr. Holmes?

am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles. That phrase the Lions Ma

unted my mind. I knew that I had seen it somewhere in an unexpected context. You have seen that

oes describe the creature. I have no doubt that it was floating on the water when McPherson saw it,

at this phrase was the only one by which he could convey to us a warning as to the creature which h

en his death.

Then I, at least, am cleared, said Murdoch, rising slowly to his feet. There are one or two words o

planation which I should give, for I know the direction in which your inquiries have run. It is true toved this lady, but from the day when she chose my friend McPherson my one desire was to help h

happiness. I was well content to stand aside and act as their go-between. Often I carried their

essages, and it was because I was in their confidence and because she was so dear to me that I

stened to tell her of my friends death, lest someone should forestall me in a more sudden and

artless manner. She would not tell you, sir, of our relations lest you should disapprove and I might

ffer. But with your leave I must try to get back to The Gables, for my bed will be very welcome.

ackhurst held out his hand. Our nerves have all been at concert-pitch, said he. Forgive what is p

urdoch. We shall understand each other better in the future. They passed out together with their ar



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nked in friendly fashion. The inspector remained, staring at me in silence with his ox-like eyes.

Well, youve done it! he cried at last. I had read of you, but I never believed it. Its wonderful!

was forced to shake my head. To accept such praise was to lower ones own standards.

was slow at the outsetculpably slow. Had the body been found in the water I could hardly have

issed it. It was the towel which misled me. The poor fellow had never thought to dry himself, and s

turn was led to believe that he had never been in the water. Why, then, should the attack of any wa

eature suggest itself to me? That was where I went astray. Well, well, Inspector, I often ventured to

aff you gentlemen of the police force, but Cyanea capillata very nearly avenged Scotland Yard.

Documents

The Adventure of the Lion's Mane